Creative Writing 101
by dragonprincess1988
Summary: It all started with a creative writing assignment. How could it have ended up like this? Lots of Dick and Tim moments.
1. Chapter 1

This is for my oldest sister, Tammy. She gave me a place to run to when everything got crazy, thanks.

Dick walked into the kitchen of Wayne Manor and saw Tim sitting at the table, dejectedly slumped over a bowl of pudding. Dick made his entrance into the kitchen noisier than usual so that if Tim didn't feel like talking he would have enough time to leave. Dick walked over to the table, but Tim didn't even notice his entrance. It wasn't until Dick sat across from Tim and slammed his hands down on the table's surface that Tim looked up from the untouched bowl of pudding. "What's up with you?"

Tim tried to give him a weak smile, but even that was too much for him. "What makes you think something is wrong?"

Dick rolled his eyes. "Well, besides the fact that you look like you're two seconds away from breaking into tears, and you didn't notice my entrance into the kitchen, you have a bowl of pudding in front of you and you haven't touched it. So, I ask again. What's up?"

Tim stared down at the bowl of pudding. "It's nothing really."

Dick leaned across the table and grabbed the bowl. Tim didn't even so much as blink. "Yeah right. Now, speak Fido." Dick snapped his fingers in front of Tim's face.

Tim heaved a large sigh. "It's nothing; it's just why did I take this summer writing class?"

Dick gave him a small grin. "Because you suck at creative writing, and it might actually be useful to you at some point in your life. I don't know when, but it might. Also, the most important reason of them all, it will help you meet girls. Okay, that last one is the reason I took it when I was your age."

Tim smiled back. "Oh, aren't you old. Anyway, seriously, do I look like I have copious amounts of time to just sit around writing? And this new assignment is, well, daunting to say the least."

Dick chuckled a little. "It's creative writing. How daunting can it be? It's not like the teacher wants you to write a twelve page paper on a guy no one has ever heard of, or cares about for that matter. What's the assignment?"

Tim looked down and mumbled something. Dick leaned in closer. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Tim glanced at him for a second and then continued to stare at the table. "She wants us to write a fanfiction."

Dick couldn't help himself. He just started laughing as hard as he could. "The teacher wants you to write a fanfiction and you're freaking out. This is great."

Tim leaned back into his chair. "Yeah, okay, laugh it up."

After a few moments, Dick calmed himself. "Sorry, but she wants you to write a fanfiction. Why don't you just write something about that show that you're obsessed about? It could be this fantastic story about how Robin jumps in, saves the day, and gets the hot babe. You know all the stuff that will never happen to you."

Tim glared at him. "Maybe I should write a story where Nightwing jumps in to try and save the day, but unfortunately and very clumsily dies a tragically pathetic death, all because he rushed in without thinking. Because you know you only do that every other day."

Dick put his hand to his chest in mock shock. "Hey, I get out alive, don't I?"

Tim gave him an evil grin. "Right. Before or after someone has to come and save your ass?"

Dick glared at him furiously. "Timmy's new writing class is making him forget which one of us is the damsel in distress."

Tim just continued with his evil smile. "I'm sorry--which one of us has the nickname short pants?"

Dick lost it. He jumped across the table and put Tim into a head lock. "Wrong move, Timmy, wrong move."

"You would know. You make them all the time." Tim spoke as loud as he could, but Dick wasn't really holding back.

Dick's arm pressed harder to Tim's throat in response and Tim started to black out. All of a sudden, Tim heard a strange noise coming from the kitchen doorway. He also noticed that Dick's grip had slackened just enough for Tim to breathe. They both moved their gazes to the doorway to see Alfred standing there. He had just cleared his throat and they both began to think he was going to yell at them, but Alfred wasn't that kind. He didn't yell, he lectured; and if he didn't lecture, he just gave you that disappointed glare, which was way worse than any glare Bruce could give anyone.

Alfred moved further into the room and Dick released Tim immediately. "Master Timothy, I think you have a writing assignment to do, and Master Dick, your help waxing all of the cars in the garage would be greatly appreciated." Alfred had a special way of making even a punishment sound like a request, but Dick knew he didn't have a choice in the matter. The three of them left the kitchen and went in their separate directions.


	2. Chapter 2

Dick had just finished waxing all of the cars in the garage with Alfred when he walked into the Bat Cave. He saw Tim sitting on the cave floor poring over a notebook. "What are you doing? Why are you sitting on the cave floor?"

Tim glanced up from the notebook he was holding. "I was just writing that assignment. I don't know why, but sitting on the floor helped to get the creative juices flowing."

Dick laughed a little. "You don't have anything creative flowing through you."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should go away before we get into another fight, and Alfred makes us both do chores."

Dick moved closer, despite Tim's suggestion. "Aw, come on, Timmy, that's no fun."

Tim turned to his right to keep his back to Dick and continued writing. "I'm busy."

Dick continued to advance, even though Tim obviously didn't want his company. "Now you sound like the Bat."

Tim shrugged. "Being around you does that to me."

Dick sat down on the floor next to him. "So, what did you decide to write about?"

Tim didn't even look up. "You know, things that would never happen to me."

Dick couldn't help but notice the hurt in his voice. "Hey, I was kidding. You know that."

Tim still didn't look at him. "You might have been kidding, but that doesn't mean you were wrong."

Dick mentally kicked himself for what he had said earlier. "Sure I was wrong. What makes you think I wasn't?"

Tim didn't feel like going into it. He knew there was no way he would ever be as good as Dick, not in or out of the suit. Tim also knew that voicing that opinion would only make it all the more true. He moved further away from the man he considered an older brother. "I really should finish this before Alfred comes down." Tim was hoping that would be enough to make Dick go away, but he knew Dick better than that.

Dick stretched his neck to look over Tim's shoulder. He was trying to see what Tim was writing. "I'm sorry for what I said."

Tim didn't even acknowledge that Dick had apologized. He just sat there. Dick wasn't even sure if he was writing anymore. It looked more like he was thinking about something--something that had nothing to do with writing. Dick leaned in closer. "Can I read it when you're done?"

Tim shook his head as though he was trying to clear his mind, and focused on what Dick had asked. "Trust me you wouldn't want to."

Dick wasn't exactly surprised by Tim's answer, but he wasn't expecting it all the same. "Why? Did you decide to kill off Nightwing after all? It's okay if you did. The guy is kind of a jerk sometimes." Dick was hoping that would get some kind of a reaction out of Tim, but he still only sat there.

After a few moments, Tim put down the notebook and pen. "I didn't kill off Nightwing." Tim didn't say anything else. He simply got up and walked out, leaving the notebook on the floor where he was sitting.

Dick walked over and picked up the notebook. He flipped back to the beginning of the story and began to read. The prompt was on the top of the first page. It was more than just write a fanfiction, which would be why Tim was having such a difficult time coming up with ideas. The prompt was to write a fanfiction about your favorite show/book/movie et cetera, and incorporate real heroes into it.

The story was about the show Tim was most recently obsessed with. Dick couldn't remember the name of it, but he recognized the characters' names. He also noticed that the heroes Tim had chosen were both Robin and Nightwing. Tim didn't lie either--he didn't kill off Nightwing--he killed off Robin. As Dick read on, he couldn't help but feel a knot form in the pit of his stomach. The actual death scene was written rather gruesomely, and the aftermath of the death was horrible. Tim had written that no one cared about Robin's death. The end certainly left something to be desired from Dick's point of view. The story ended with everyone carrying on like nothing happened. A new Robin arose as though the previous Robin had never existed.

Dick dropped the notebook to the floor. He couldn't believe that Tim actually felt that way. He couldn't believe that Tim had actually written that. Part of Dick wanted to race up to Bruce and force him to read it, another part of him wanted to run up to Tim and smack him for writing something like that; but a much more sane part of Dick wanted to run up to Tim and just hug him. After some thought Dick raced up the stairs to do just that.

Unfortunately, when he got to the top of the stairs he ran into Alfred, sending both of them to the ground. Alfred had been holding a large tray with tea and sandwiches on it--that toppled to the ground along with the two of them. Alfred, slightly dazed, began to stand and clean up the mess. Dick looked down at the mess. "Oh, man. I'm so sorry Alfred. I would love to help you clean that up. In fact, I should do that for you, being that it was completely my fault and all, but I have to find Tim right away."

Dick was about to run off when Alfred said calmly. "Master Dick, Master Timothy just left. He didn't say where he was going, but then again, none of you ever do."

Dick started to panic, but in true bat fashion, he didn't let it show. He quickly began to clean up the mess of tea and sandwiches, and when he was finished with that he dashed down the cave steps again and headed out to find Tim.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been hours since Tim left the manor. He was sitting on the roof of an old building, just thinking over things, when he heard the smallest movement behind him. Tim didn't make any motion towards the other figure on the roof. "What took you so long? I thought you were a faster reader than that--or was it harder to find me than you thought it would be?"

Dick walked closer to him. "Neither, I collided with Alfred and created a huge mess that I had to clean up."

Tim shrugged, and spoke with a weak sad voice. "Oh"

Dick smacked himself on the forehead and started to mentally chastise himself, _wrong thing to say, idiot._ Dick couldn't help but notice how close Tim was to the edge. "Hey Tim, why don't you come over here, and we can talk."

Tim just continued to stare at the street with his back to Dick. "I'm more comfortable over here. And don't look at me like that--I'm not going to jump. After all, that would be giving people what they want and I'm just a disappointment."

Tim's last statement was mumbled under his breath, but Dick still heard it clearly. He moved a few more steps closer to Tim and sat down next to him on the roof. "I told myself the first question I was going to ask you when I found you was going to be if you actually felt like what I had read, but I guess that answer is obvious."

Tim turned away from Dick and said nothing. Dick's heart sank just slightly more at that. "Timmy, come on, you know we all care about you. You're like my little brother."

Tim lowered his head and his voice was barely audible. "Just because I know that doesn't mean it changes how I feel."

Dick didn't know what to say to that, so he opted to say nothing. Instead Dick wrapped an arm around Tim's shoulders. After a few minutes, the silence grew almost unbearable and Dick felt as though he had to say something, but he didn't know what. Dick opened his mouth but all that came out was, "Timmy," before he fell silent again.

The sound of Dick saying his name seemed to snap Tim out of the little moment. He wiggled until Dick's arm fell to the ground, and then abruptly Tim stood to his full height. "It was just a stupid creative writing assignment. It doesn't mean anything. Just let it go. I'm fine, it's fine, everything is fine, just let me be a melodramatic teenager on my own. " Tim immediately jumped off of the building and pulled out a bat grappling hook he had in his back pocket.

Dick's eyes were wide as he began to think to himself again. _I had to climb up here the hard way while that little jerk had a grappling hook in his back pocket. I'm going to kill him._ Dick was seething as he used the fire escape to climb down to the ground._ I'm going to go home, show that story to Alfred, and let him deal with Timmy the wonder freak. That kid is a pain in the ass. Yeah, Alfred can deal with it. Maybe he'll make Timmy polish all of the silver, Bruce's shoes, and dust the Bat Cave. It's the least Timmy could do after being such a little-_ Dick stopped mid-thought when he saw something on the ground in front of him. It was a piece of paper neatly folded with his name on it. Dick opened up the note and something fell out and landed next to his shoe. He picked it up and held it under the street light. Immediately Dick recognized what he was holding. It was a piece of Tim's uniform--the R portion of the suit to be exact. Dick hurriedly unfolded the letter and began to read it under the light. All that was written were four words that made the knot in Dick's stomach tighten.

I'm done. Good-bye. Tim

Dick reread the letter at least five times before he slid both the piece of paper and the piece of fabric in his back pocket. Dick decided to head back to the cave and get suited up. He figured it be easier to find Tim once he had a few things on him. Dick couldn't help but blame himself for the way Tim was feeling even though he had no proof that he was the root of it. _I'm such an ass. I can't believe I thought all those horrible things about Tim. He is like a brother to me, and he's in pain. The poor kid is down on himself a lot of the time, and for the most part, I just reassured him that what he thinks about himself is right. I can't believe I make him feel like that. I'm an absolute jerk. Oh God, what if Tim does something stupid? What will happen to Bruce? What will happen to Alfred? Oh man, who is going to tell his dad? _And with that Dick raced off after Tim once again.


	4. Chapter 4

Tim was standing in the shadows on the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge, looking down at the water. He couldn't believe a simple writing assignment had brought him to this; yet again, these were thoughts that had been festering and suppressed for a long time. _I know they care. So, why does it hurt this much? Why does breathing feel like a thousand knives cutting through my chest? Why does my heart feel like it is being slowly torn from me? I'm so down all of the time, and I know feeling like this hurts them, but I can't help it. I know that if I jumped there would be a lot of people upset about it, and yet some part of me is saying just do it. Something inside of me is just screaming that it's worth it. It feels like ending it all would be the only way to make it all better. I know that's stupid and completely not true, but I still feel that way. Why do I feel that way? I know that jumping would be the ultimate form of running, and yet I yearn to make it all stop. I just want everything to go away. I want silence, darkness, and above all nothingness. I want a bleak empty hole of nothing. I want to feel nothing. To be completely numb would be complete bliss. Everything would be perfect if I just couldn't feel. _Tim sat down and brought his knees to his chest. Slowly he lowered his head down to rest on his knees and wrapped his arms around his legs.

It had taken Nightwing sometime to find Tim. He wasn't sure what he was going to say to Tim, but he knew talking was the first step. Gradually Nightwing moved closer to him. "Hey Timmy" He wanted to say more; he needed to say more. Unfortunately, that was all he could think of to say. Nightwing was starting to become annoyed with himself, he felt fully responsible for the way Tim was feeling. He also felt like not knowing what to say was letting the poor kid down even more.

At the sound of his name Tim looked up, his eyes swollen and red, at the man standing before him. . He didn't want to deal with this, but he also knew he had to for his own sake as well as Dick's. When Tim lifted his head, he was surprised and none too happy to see Nightwing instead of Dick standing there. If he wasn't so emotionally raw at that moment he would have been angry, but right now he just felt even more hurt that this had turned into job-related stuff instead of staying family-related. Tim couldn't say anything. He wasn't even sure if he still had a voice left inside of him. He wanted to say something; hell he wanted to yell and scream about Nightwing being there, but all he could do was lay his head back down on his knees and bury himself a little deeper in the shadows. The shadows felt like light right now. The difference between the two was blurred just the same as everything else at that moment.

Nightwing's gaze never left Tim, even though it was evident Tim would have preferred that. He moved closer to Tim and couldn't help but notice how truly broken the kid looked. It pained Nightwing to see him that broken, that messed up, that lost, that hurt; but the worst of it was the look of utter despair in Tim's eyes when he had first looked into the masked eyes of Nightwing. That was when Nightwing realized that some other emotion had flashed in Tim's eyes when he saw that it was Nightwing standing before him. It was then that Nightwing realized that the emotion, which was only there for a small moment, was anger. Nightwing knew Tim wasn't angry with him for being there because, after all, Tim had expected him to come after he left the first time. So, it would only be natural for him to come now. Slowly the thoughts started to string together. _Then again, it had been Dick on that rooftop not Nightwing. Of course, Timmy was angry with Nightwing's presence. He had every right to be. Am I going to screw up everything today? Worse yet, I have no idea how to help him. I'm standing here dressed as the very last person that he could possibly want to see right now. Okay, not the very last. I'm not standing here as Batman, but still. The kid has enough problems on his plate without the added stress of job related stupidity._

_Wait-- kid--sometimes I forget how young Timmy really is. I joke with him, make fun of him, and sometimes treat him like one, but really I think we all treat him as being much older than we should far too often. Timmy is certainly far more mature than a normal teenager, but at the end of the day he is just that --a teenager. None of us want to undermine his intelligence or anything, and he is very intelligent, but at the same time, are we really that good of a support system? Does Timmy even __**have**__ a good support system? Bruce is, well, Bruce. Everything takes a backseat to the job, and talking about anything is out of the question, which works for him, but for semi-normal people that can't be good, healthy, or easy to be around. Tim's dad doesn't know who Timmy really is in any circumstance, besides the fact he doesn't know about Tim's night job. Timmy isn't the same kid during daylight hours that he used to be. His dad chalks it up to teenage rebellion, but how can you have a life like Tim's and not be changed by it?_

_And Alfred…. Alfred is great, the best one of us all if you ask me, but Timmy tries to handle everything on his own before he goes to Alfred. Maybe it's because he feels Alfred has enough to deal with, what with Bruce and everything. I don't know, but you can't help people that won't let you, that's for sure._

_Ah, and then there's me. Timmy is like my little brother, and yet I doubt I ever help him. I'm never here to start with. I'm only here now because I happened to be in Gotham for something, and most of the time I just get annoyed when he starts acting like insecure Timmy --but he's not acting, is he? Timmy is insecure, and so is Robin. Sure he can put up a good front for anyone, but when he gets back to the cave, it all comes crashing down. He runs over everything he did wrong, even things he didn't do wrong but thinks he did anyway. The kid doesn't believe in himself, and he doesn't believe anyone else should believe in him either. He feels like he's all alone--and for the most part he is. There isn't a single one of us that can relate to Timmy. Sure we've been through the whole parents dying thing, but Bruce and I never had to outwardly lie to our parents the way Timmy has to. Neither one of us knows what it's like to stare our father straight in the face and lie about where we're going and what we're doing. Timmy has to face that everyday …and then to have his dad think the things that he does, it has to be heart-wrenching to say the least. No wonder poor Timmy is sitting in the shadows on the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge thinking G-d only knows what. _Nightwing stepped further into the shadows next to Tim. He knelt down and pulled Tim into a tight embrace.

Tim became rigid in Nightwing's arms. The hug was comforting, but Tim felt as though he didn't deserve to be shown this act of kindness. Tim also felt as if this was the last thing he wanted, as if human contact was the last thing he could handle right now. Suddenly, for what seemed like no reason at all, he burst into tears. Nightwing held him tighter and Tim began to cry harder. Slowly, Nightwing started to gently rock him back and forth. Tim could feel Nightwing's pity and sympathy wash over him. Tim's stomach began to churn, and he couldn't help but feel ill. Abruptly he began to shake violently in Nightwing's arms. Tim wanted nothing more than to be free from his grasp, but Nightwing gripped him tighter still and refused to let him go. After some time, Tim was too tired to struggle anymore. He leaned back into Nightwing's embrace and continued to sob. They remained like that for what seemed like hours until Tim cried himself to sleep in Nightwing's arm and Nightwing carried Tim back to Wayne Manor.


	5. Chapter 5

Tim awoke in a familiar room in Wayne Manor. He looked around, shielding his eyes from the blinding sun creeping in from the window. Turning his gaze to the shadows in the far corner of the room, Tim saw Dick sitting in a chair staring straight at him. He was relieved to see Dick sitting in the chair instead of Nightwing, but only slightly. Tim knew he wasn't ready for the conversation that was about to take place. Unfortunately, he also knew there was no way out of it. Running wouldn't help him. Dick already proved he was more than willing to follow him. Tim thought about blaming everything on Dick and storming out, but he knew that would get him nowhere as well. This was something he had to deal with, no matter if he wanted to or not. Tim was grateful that this conversation wasn't going to be between him and Bruce. He had no idea what he would do if that were the case. Secretly, Tim was thankful Dick cared as much as he did, even if he resented it at this precise moment. Sighing slightly to himself, Tim silently looked from Dick to the bed sheets.

Dick stood up and walked over to the bed, when he saw Tim lower his head. He sat down on the bed next to Tim and waited for him to speak first. When Tim said nothing, Dick placed a hand on his shoulder. "We need to talk." Again Tim said nothing and Dick continued, "Is there a reason you're acting like a hormonal teenage girl?"

Tim glanced up and shrugged. "I'm a hormonal teenage boy, close enough?"

Dick laughed a little. He was glad the conversation was starting on an okay note. Neither one of them had blown up yet, which was a good sign. "Seriously Timmy, what the hell is going on? I mean you've always been insecure and down on yourself and what not, but have you always felt so…" Dick trailed off, not sure what to say.

"Useless? Yeah, I have." Tim's voice held little to no emotion.

Dick was a little shocked with both his answer and his tone. "Why? I mean, I think we have all proven on a number of occasions that we need you. Is it my fault? Do all of my jokes and nagging make you feel like that? How can I help you?"

Tim shifted slightly, feeling far more uncomfortable all of a sudden. "I don't know why I feel the way I do, I don't think there's anyway for you to help me, and it's not your fault. It's no one's fault that I apparently need a shrink."

Dick gave him a small grin. "You work with the Bat--needing a shrink is a given."

Tim continued to stare at the sheet distractedly. "I'm sorry."

Dick looked confused. "For what?"

Tim heaved a large sigh. "For everything--running away, making you chase me, acting the way I do. I don't mean to, I just…" Tim didn't know what he wanted to say. He wasn't even sure there were words for how he was feeling.

Dick smiled again. "You're a teenager. It's a given that you're going to act like an annoying kid. Don't worry about it, we'll work through it." Dick absentmindedly rubbed his stomach.

Tim no longer wanted to talk. He saw his opportunity and took it. "I'm hungry. Could we finish this downstairs--in the kitchen perhaps?" If there was anyway to distract Dick, food was it; and, since Dick was trying to be in a light fluffy mood, suddenly Tim knew he would agree to almost anything to keep the conversation civil. Tim knew that no matter what he was feeling on the inside he would always be good at manipulating the people around him. It was the same way Tim manipulated people in chess, and it was safe to say he very rarely lost in either case.

Dick nodded, and the two of them headed down the stairs to the kitchen. As they walked along, Tim made a point of keeping the conversation on the topic of what they would eat. Dick kept up with the conversation, thinking nothing of it. When the two of them entered the kitchen, Alfred was at the counter polishing silver. The pair of them sat down at the table and continued talking about the possibilities of pancakes.

Alfred couldn't help but notice the look on Tim's face. It was the look that said he had just won or was about to win. Both Tim and Dick had decided they wanted something quick and easy. They chose oatmeal, and sat quietly as they ate. Tim finished first and left before Dick noticed.

When Dick looked up and realized that Tim was gone, he furiously slammed his fists down on the table, which caused his oatmeal to spill all over the table and himself. Alfred came over and started to clean up the table while Dick cleaned himself off. "Sorry Alfred, I seem to be doing that a lot lately. I blame Timmy. I swear I'm going to backhand that kid when I find him."

Alfred raised his gaze to meet Dick's. "Master Dick, you may find Master Timothy closer to his home than you may think, and I would think when you find him, something more productive than physical harm may be in order."

"Thanks, Alfred." Dick knew where Tim was immediately, and ran out the door. Dick was beginning to grow tired of chasing after Tim, but he knew it was necessary.


	6. Chapter 6

Dick walked into the nearly deserted public library near Tim's dad's house knowing that he would find Tim in there, probably hiding in the back. He was growing tired and angry with chasing Tim around, and Dick was going to force Tim to sit down and have it out with him even if it killed them both. He walked over to the science fiction section and saw Tim sitting on the floor reading. "I think lately I've seen your butt on the ground more often than in a chair, and the worst part is I wasn't the one that knocked you on it."

Tim gulped as he looked up. Dick was fuming, and Tim knew this wasn't going to be a happy talk. Immediately Tim began to mentally scold himself. _I should have taken my chances this morning in the bedroom at Wayne Manor. At least he was being nice then. Shocker, Timmy screwed up. I'm an absolute idiot and moron. No, I'm a stupid monkey who can't seem to do anything right. I'm a complete waste of space, time, and energy. Words like dumb, useless, pathetic, and worthless don't even begin to cover it._

Dick was standing there, arms folded over his chest, breathing heavily, staring at Tim. Before he knew it, Tim had started hitting himself in the head, hard, with the book he was holding. Dick bent down, wrenched the book from Tim's hands, and then threw it behind him. Before he could stop himself, Dick slapped Tim as hard as he could in the back of the head, even though Alfred had advised him against it. "What the hell is wrong with you? Did your last encounter with The Joker drive you completely mad, or have you always been this messed up in the head? Timmy, there are times I just want to shake you, and this is definitely one of those times."

Tim didn't say anything--he just continued to stare forward blankly; seemingly completely unfazed by the smack to the head he had just received. Inside, his mind was spinning, thoughts were coming and going like the locomotives at the train station. _I deserved that. In fact, I deserve far worse than that. I'm a complete imbecile. Life sucks, this sucks, everything sucks. I'm glad he's angry, and there's no pity or sympathy in his gaze. I don't think I could take it if that were the case. I don't deserve his sympathy, and pity is useless, just like me, a complete waste. I want him to hate me. I want him to hit me. It's what I deserve, and the physical pain is nothing compared to what I feel inside. I hate it when he's nice to me because I don't deserve it._

Dick snapped his fingers in front of Tim's unblinking eyes a few times, but received no response. He even called out Tim's name a few times, and still the teenager before him was silent. Tim looked as though he was in a trance. Dick was becoming slightly frantic._ Timmy has to have some kind of brain damage--it's the only way to explain this. I'll take him back to the cave run some test on him, figure out what exactly is wrong with him, and hopefully get him the help he needs. Maybe it's alien parasites and I can have some real fun with him. That or he just needs a good ass-kicking, which could also prove to be fun. What the hell am I thinking? This is Timmy I'm going on about! I am such a horrible person. _Dick knelt down next to Tim, and this time, he did get a reaction. Tim slid back to the bookshelf and curled in on himself. Dick thought he looked like a cowering dog. "This is the last time I'm asking you before I drag your butt back to the cave and let Bats deal with you. What the hell is wrong with you?" Dick's voice was lethal.

Tim neither moved nor rose his head to look at Dick. "Nothing. I'm fine--situation normal."

Dick wanted to shake Tim and smack him at the same time, but controlled himself and stayed where he was. "Timmy, the only way this behavior would be considered normal is if you were on drugs." Dick's tone was considerably nicer than before, but the fact that he was still annoyed was evident.

Tim still remained silent, and Dick moved closer to him. Tim shuddered and moved closer to the bookshelf, backing as far away from Dick as possible. "Timmy, come on, I want to help you. I promise I won't hit you again." Tim turned away from him. "Tim, come on, you're acting like the classic abused kid." Dick stopped the moment he said it as realization dawned on him. "Tim you were, weren't you?"

Tim stared at him, completely devoid of emotion, and then shook his head no. Dick didn't believe him, but decided to leave it at that anyway. Dick figured he would just consult Bruce or better yet, the computer in the Bat Cave later. Tim saw Dick's emotions switch from anger to something far more kind, and he hated it. He started to lash out towards Dick. Tim stood up, ran to Dick, and started to pound his fists against Dick's chest. Suddenly, Tim began screaming at Dick to stop feeling sorry for him.

Before Dick could even register what had happened Tim stopped and ran out of the library. Dick pulled out his cell phone and called Bruce. When Bruce picked up, Dick didn't even give him a chance to speak. "Okay, I'm officially in way over my head. I know you've probably found and read the notebook. You also probably have some idea of what is going on. So, what am I dealing with, and how exactly do I deal with it?"


	7. Chapter 7

Dick was becoming frustrated with the silence on the other side of the phone. "Yes, I'm calling in the reinforcements. I am running to my Daddy Bat for help. So, tell me what the hell is going on."

"Let it go, Dick, I'll handle it."

Dick was enraged now. "You'll handle it. Do you have any idea what I've gone through in the last 24 hours--and then to have you tell me you'll handle it? I don't think so, buddy. You want to take over, that's fine by me, but you are at least going to tell me what the hell is going on. Timmy is like my little brother. I have a right to know."

"How many times have you chased after him in the last 24 hours? Despite what you have gone through with him, you still have no idea what you are dealing with. Drop it. Maybe it's time you just let him go and give him the space he needs."

Dick's eyes grew wide. "Okay, I know that isn't the Bat talking, and right now I'm thinking I'd rather talk to him. I found him on a bridge last night. What was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to just let him go, and hope that Timmy had enough sense not to jump? Am I supposed to just leave him alone, and hope everything works itself out? How am I supposed to reassure him that he's not what he thinks he is when I have no idea why he thinks that way?"

"Dick, this doesn't concern you."

Dick slammed his fist against a nearby wall. "'This doesn't concern you' is Bat talk for 'I know something you don't, and I'm not telling.' Of course, it's you, so I fully expected you to know what was going on, and I fully expected you not to tell me, but I think we both agree that I am clearly involved. After all, Tim came to me, not you. I have a right to know, and with or without your help, I am going to find out--so spill!"

"Did Tim really go to you? Or did you just happen to be there? From what I know, he's done a lot of running away from you in the past 24 hours. So again, I am advising you to stay out of this. I will deal with the problem at hand, in my own way. Dick, it is for Tim's benefit that you go home and stay out of this." Bruce didn't even give Dick time to respond before he hung up.

Dick angrily shoved his cell phone back into his pocket, and headed back to Wayne Manor. He needed a plan of attack, and right now, everything he had that could potentially assist him was there. _I'll talk to Alfred. Alfred knows everything. Unfortunately knowing Alfred he'll just tell me to talk to Bruce. Granted, I can tell him I tried, and that the talk didn't go as planned…_

_Then again, talks with Bruce rarely go as planned. Just once, I want to call him up, ask him a question, and get a straight answer. I'm so sick of, "Sorry kid, but I'm the control freak and have to handle everything on my own." How hard is it for him to pick up a phone, listen to a question, and just answer said question? Why does everything have to become a power struggle with him? One of these days I'm going to call him up and say, "Hey, this is all the stuff the police sent me, but I decided to let you handle it because I know how much you like to control everything and everyone around you." I'm sure, deep down, this is his way of saying, "I care," but does his method have to piss me off so much? Then again, there's always the kill Timmy method of dealing with things, but I think everyone might look down upon that._

_Great--now I'm getting a headache. I just wanted to come to Gotham, get done what I needed to, and hang with Timmy for a while before I left. I didn't want everything to fall apart around me. I don't want to deal with any of it. Although, if I really didn't want to deal with any of this, then I could just leave, Bruce did just tell me to let it go and go back home. Maybe I __**should**__ just go. Right, that makes perfect sense. Yeah, just leave and tell Timmy what? Sorry I couldn't stick around for your mental breakdown, had better things to do, catch ya later, love Dick. I'm sure the kid would take that wonderfully. I do want to stick around and make sure Timmy is okay, and I know there is so much more going on here. Whatever is wrong with Timmy reaches far below the surface. I just wish that things were less complicated in this family._

Dick lowered his head and breathed a large sigh as he continued to Wayne Manor.


	8. Chapter 8

When Dick got back to Wayne Manor no one was there--even Alfred had left to run some errands. Dick took the opportunity to use the computer in the cave. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he had a feeling whatever it was this was the place to find it. After searching for about an hour and finding nothing that he didn't already know, Dick decided to do something he promised himself he wouldn't do. He went up to the room Tim sometimes stayed in, and started looking through the personal things he had left there. Dick found a few notebooks with Tim's creative writing assignments in it, most of which were just funny little snippets. He continued searching until he found a very old black leather-bound journal, one which he had never seen before. Dick started to leaf through it. The writing at the beginning was barely readable; it looked like something a child did. The more Dick read the more he realized that Tim had been keeping this journal since he was very young. Obviously Tim didn't write in it often, and what he did write wasn't exactly long. Dick found a few pages written about Tim's mother, Janet. Those pages were covered in tear stains. Dick had a feeling it was because Tim missed her--that was until he read a section on the back of one of the pages about Tim's mom.

_You hurt me almost everyday. You never looked at me as anything more than a problem. I know I never made you proud. I could never be the perfect kid you wanted. Now you're gone, and I don't know how to feel about that. Part of me misses you. I'm not sure if that's the part that is hurt beyond repair, or if that's the part of me that has dealt with everything. I know you loved me in your own way, but that doesn't change everything you did and said. It's been years, and I still can't get all of those words out of my head. I still cry every now and then because I don't know if I can be anything more than what you told me I was. I know I had far more than most kids, but I was still missing something important--a support system. I have people who love, care for and respect me now, but because of you, I don't feel like I deserve it. Because of you, I feel worthless, and no matter how many times they tell me I'm not, I won't believe them because you taught me otherwise. I don't know why you said the things you did, but you taught me to hate myself, and that's not something that is easily forgotten._

Dick closed the journal, placed it back where he found it, and walked out of the room. He decided to go to the kitchen for a glass of water to relieve the lump in his throat. Dick was dwelling on what he had read instead of paying attention as he was descending the stairs, and ended up colliding with someone else, sending them both tumbling down the staircase. The two of them landed in a heap at the bottom on the floor. Dick got up first and walked over to the other person lying on the floor. "I'm sorry; I wasn't looking where I was going." Dick stopped when he realized the person he had crashed into was Tim. "Are you okay?"

Tim stood up, and looked down to the floor. "Um, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about that, I wasn't paying attention either." He was about to walk off when Dick stopped him.

Dick grabbed Tim's arm. "Hey, do mind having lunch with me? I don't really feel like eating alone." Tim shrugged, and Dick knew that he was contemplating it. "Come on, Timmy, please."

Tim nodded, and the two of them continued to the kitchen. Dick made them sandwiches. The pair of them sat in relative silence while eating. Finally, Dick asked the question that had been lingering on his mind since he ran into Tim. "Where did you go after you left the library?"

Tim glanced up slightly caught off guard by the question. "I just walked around. You know, blew off some steam, and thought about a few things. I'm sorry about…"

Dick waved his hand in the air to silence him. "Think nothing of it. It's fine. So, how's the sandwich?"

Tim gave him a small smile. "It's good, could use some gummy worms, though."

Dick gazed at him confusedly. "Gummy worms? You would really put that on your sandwich?"

Tim chuckled. "No, that would be odd, but they would make a good side dish."

Dick laughed as well. "Somehow I don't think that would be Alfred approved."

Tim pulled a package of gummy worms out of his pocket. "What Alfred doesn't know doesn't hurt him." He smiled widely as he put a handful of them in his mouth.

Dick rubbed Tim's hair, and then stole some of the gummy treats out of Tim's hand. "Hey, what do you know, they do make a good side dish."

Tim finished the package of gummy worms with Dick, and then turned serious. "There's something you want to say, so say it."

Dick stared at him for a moment. "How'd you know?"

Tim began fidgeting with the package from the gummy worms. "We just had an entire conversation about gummy worms. If that isn't avoiding a subject I don't know what is."

Dick sighed. "Okay, now before you yell at me and storm off, try to put yourself in my position. I was really worried about you, and I had no idea what was going on. So, I was sort of kind of snooping around upstairs, and I found that really old journal of yours. Long story short, I know about your mom." Dick was waiting for the look of betrayal that was bound to creep across Tim's face.

Tim stood up and began to pace back and forth. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. I'm sure that if I were in your shoes, I would have done the same thing. I knew it was only a matter of time before someone found that journal. I'm just happy it was you. I guess I only kept it as a reminder of what my life was before I became Robin, and what it could be like now that I'm not Robin anymore."

Dick stood up and walked over to Tim. "Timmy, you will always be Robin even if you don't wear the mask anymore. Robin is a part of who you are. It's not like you're Tim Drake who happens to play the part of Robin. Nor is it that you're Robin who also happens to be Tim Drake. They are both parts of you--your personality. The two sides make you both courageous and annoying."

Tim's eyes fell to the floor. "Gee, thanks."

Dick put his hand on Tim's shoulder. "Hey, come on, I'll always make fun of you. It's how I show my love. The moment I stop making fun of you, you'll know that I'm either really mad at you and want to kill you, or I have been replaced by pod people."

Tim glanced up. "Hey, that's not funny. We have actually had to **deal** with pod people."

Dick laughed lightly. "Yeah, I know. And Tim? You are going to continue being Robin aren't you? I mean there's no reason why you can't. I didn't tell anyone about you quitting."

Tim smiled at Dick. "Do you really think I'm good enough?"

Dick stared at him with complete shock. "Tim, of course I think you're good enough. I would never let just any old person run around wearing the Robin suit. I trust you and I believe in you, just like Bruce. If I didn't, I wouldn't be giving this back to you." Dick reached into his back pocket and handed Tim the R portion of his suit that Tim had left him.

Tim's smile grew exponentially. "So…"

Dick spoke softly. "So, I guess I was right about that whole abused kid thing, huh?" Tim nodded, and Dick continued. "Now that I know, are you going to talk to me about it?"

Tim glared at him. "Well, it's not like my entire life is easier just because you know now. I mean I'm glad I have someone to talk to now, but it's not an easy subject to discuss."

Dick held his hands up in the air defensively. "I know, I know, just promise me that when you feel like the entire world hates you and everything sucks, you'll come talk to me instead of running off and possibly hurting yourself."

Tim pulled Dick into a tight embrace. "I promise!"

Dick hugged him back. "That's my little brother. Now come on, I think playing a prank on Bruce is in order." The two of the left the kitchen and headed for the cave.

Author Note: This was going to be the last chapter, but my beta asked about a prank epilogue and well one thing led to another.


	9. Epilogue

Dick and Tim left the kitchen with the supplies they needed for their well overdue prank on Bruce. The two of them moved silently down the stairs to the cave. "You know he's going to kill us for this, right?" Tim spoke softly to Dick.

Dick reached the bottom of the stairs, and turned toward Tim. "Yeah, but it's worth it. Clearly he should know better than to leave the two of us alone together."

Tim grinned. "There's another reason you're doing this. What is it?"

Dick placed a hand on his chest. "What me? I just think that maybe it's time Bats learned that he should really just answer people's questions when they call."

Tim laughed lightly. "I take it you asked what was up with me, and he dodged the question."

Dick walked over to the Bat suit. "He doesn't dodge questions, he blatantly ignores them and tells you to leave it be. Now, are you going to help me with this or not?"

Tim handed Dick the plastic wrap. "I don't think this is what Alfred had in mind when he bought all this stuff, and I really don't think he would approve of the Jell-O being used in this fashion."

Dick started to tightly encase the bat suit in the plastic wrap. "It's the red kind--no one eats the red kind, at least not since that one incident, but that's totally beside the point."

Tim started to mix the ingredients for the Jell-O. "How long do you think we have before he finds it?"

Dick finished what he was doing, and then stood the suit up again. "I don't know, but I think the faster we work the better."

Tim handed him the Jell-O mixture, and Dick began to fill the Bat suit with it. "I guess it's a good thing the cave is always cold, huh? I always told Bruce it was like a giant refrigerator, and he would always tell me I was overreacting. Now, I can prove my point."

Dick nodded. "Bruce should have never challenged me to see the coldness of the cave as a good thing when I was younger. He really brought this upon himself."

Together they placed icepacks around the suit to help the Jell-O along. After that they snuck back up to the kitchen to return the borrowed supplies.

Later that night, much later, Bruce went down to the cave to get ready for that night's patrol. He knew something was amiss before he saw the Bat suit encased in icepacks and plastic wrap because Dick and Tim were getting along far too well. Dick hadn't put Tim in a headlock all day, and Tim was smiling brightly and laughing at every bad joke Dick made. That only happened when the two of them had done something Bruce would in no way appreciate. Bruce had a feeling it was going to be a long night. Unfortunately, he had no idea how long that night was really going to turn out to be. He removed enough of the icepacks and plastic wrap to see what awaited him in the suit. The suit was completely filled from the toes of the boots to the very edge of the neck line with jiggling red Jell-O. Without a word, Bruce turned toward the two who were standing behind him, trying desperately not to laugh at their mentor. "I'm glad you two think that is funny because you will be eating every last bit of that Jell-O, and thoroughly cleaning every inch of that suit. Oh, and when you are done you can go help Alfred with everything he has planned for the next month." Bruce swept past the two of them leaving them both dumbfounded.

Tim glared at Dick. "I told you we should have used the green kind."

Dick shrugged. "How was I supposed to know he'd make us eat it?"

Tim heaved a large sigh. "It's Bruce, he's the Bat, of course he is going to make us do the most foul thing he can think of to make us learn our lesson."

Dick smirked. "But we never do, do we?"

Tim shook his head. "No, we just come up with something even more evil, like that time we greased the cave stairs, and Bruce went flying into that big thing of pudding we made. Man, I thought he was going to gut us with a batarang right there."

Dick clasped a hand on Tim's shoulder. "Aw, good times, good times. Well at least you have more ammo for your next creative writing assignment."

Tim laughed. "Yeah, because no one would believe any of this."

Dick began to laugh a little too, and then looked back to the Bat suit. "Right, so do you want to start with the boot, or should I?"

Tim glanced from the suit to Dick and then back again. "Um, that's all yours, buddy."

The End


End file.
